Perfectly Imperfect Moments
by carpemermaid
Summary: He sat quietly, resting his hand on her ankle while he watched her eat and waited for the perfect moment to reveal the surprise in his pocket. Ron was consumed by how much he loved Hermione, and it was killing him to wait to ask her at all.


_Notes:_ For a tumblr prompt game: _things you said at the kitchen table._

As a surprise birthday gift, this fic now has some glorious fanart to go with it by **skarhead** , check it out here on tumblr!

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"Eat up, love," Ron said as he set a steak and mash pie on the table.

He hoped it tasted as good as his mum's. He was still learning his way around the kitchen in their new home; they'd only moved in a few weeks ago. There were more Muggle appliances than he was used to, too. He'd left George at the shop early so that he could hurry home and cook a perfect meal for his girlfriend.

Hermione kicked off her heels and was pouring herself a glass of red wine. Ron sat next to her at the table and pulled her bare feet into his lap to rub them, working the toes and her sore arches. He could feel the shift of the little box in his pocket, spelled smaller so it wouldn't protrude and give him away to Hermione's sharp eyes. He hid a smile and pressed his thumb harder into the ball of her foot.

"Mm," Hermione hummed, leaning back in her chair. "Thank you, Ron."

"How were the vultures at the Wizengamot today?" he asked as she helped herself to dinner.

Hermione scoffed and tossed her head. "Ruthless and as stuck in the fourteenth century as ever."

"I hear Ainsworth actually is, you know," Ron said with a wry grin.

Hermione tilted her head and smiled slowly at him.

"They'll come around. You'll get them to pass your proposal on the new regulations. You're very convincing when you've got a soapbox to stand on," Ron said, voice full of pride and love for her.

Hermione shrugged and turned back to the steak and mash on her plate. "I only wish I could get their approval sooner, for the sake of the people classified as a creature who have to wait them out."

"I know, love," Ron soothed, running his palm over her calf comfortingly.

He sat quietly, resting his hand on her ankle while he watched her eat and waited for the right moment to reveal the surprise in his pocket. Ron was consumed by how much he loved Hermione, and it was killing him to wait to ask her at all. He had already tried to make it happen twice before; both times Hermione had foiled his plans by getting sidetracked by work or the family interrupting them in the garden at the Burrow. He was determined to do it right, and he thought at their new home with just the two of them would be perfect for Hermione, who didn't like a big fuss.

 _Come on, old chap, where's that Gryffindor courage?_ Ron asked himself, chewing absently on his lip until it was rough and chapped. Hermione was always getting on him about biting his lips raw when he was nervous.

"This is really good. Did you get a new recipe from your mum?" Hermione asked through a mouthful. She licked a stray bit of gravy from her fork and Ron felt his heart thud in his chest. Merlin, he loved her.

"Yeah," he answered faintly, clearing his throat. His free hand went to his pocket, tracing the edge of the box hidden there. "She finally gave me the family secret for the gravy. Makes all the difference, doesn't it?"

Hermione hummed in agreement, sipping at her wine. Ron felt in his gut that this was the moment he had been waiting for. It might not be as flashy as when George asked Angelina to marry him, but it felt so ideal for them: just the two of them, at home on a quiet night after work. Not other time or place could be better. Ron gathered his courage and inhaled slowly.

He let go of her leg, slid off his chair and carefully got down on one knee, his pulse pounding in his throat. He knew Hermione loved him—knew she was happy with him—but he wasn't sure how she would take a traditional proposal for all that she talked about modern times and equality. For all he knew, she had a ring for him hidden away in her drawer in the bedroom and planned to propose to him.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, her voice sliding higher in pitch.

He grinned up at her and pulled out the small box. With a tap of his wand it returned to its rightful size. Hermione gasped and brought a hand up to cover her mouth.

"Hermione," Ron started, his voice shaking slightly. He reached for her other hand and threaded their fingers together. "Hermione, it's always been you for me. I've been in love with you for half my life, even if it took me a while to figure it out."

Hermione laughed wetly. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. She squeezed his hand.

"I tried this a couple of other times, but it wasn't right," Ron continued, smiling crookedly when he thought of his family butting in on his failed proposal in the garden. "This feels perfect though, just the two of us together. I love you, Hermione Jean Granger, and I would like to have the honor of becoming your husband. Will you marry me?"

Hermione was silent for several heartbeats, tears trembling on her lashes before they fell and glided down her cheeks. Ron felt his stomach drop, fearing that she was about to say no.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry! Sorry, I was just… Yes, _yes_ , Ron, of course I want to marry you!" Hermione said in a jumbled rush. She swooped down and wrapped her arms around his neck so tightly he was having trouble breathing.

"You haven't even seen the ring yet." Her hair muffled his words. Hermione laughed and squeezed him tighter.

"I love you," she said.

Ron grinned and buried his face in her shoulder as joy welled up in him.


End file.
